


Rainy Day

by Dunedain789



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunedain789/pseuds/Dunedain789
Summary: Its raining at the Task Force 141 base. When Meat and Royce's prank on Roach doesn't go to plan what do they do? One shot written years ago for a bit of fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and posted this story on fanfic.net years ago and I still have no idea how it came to be! I quite liked the characterisations though so I decided to post it here too. Hope you enjoy!

It was raining hard at the Task Force 141 base. Fat raindrops fell on the roof, in a deafening roar and collected in muddy puddles on the ground. The huge quantity of rain had called a halt to the training for the day, stranding each member of the 141 inside the building. Each man was trying their hardest to distract themselves, curling up with books or cleaning their equipment down for the next mission.

Ltn. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had been at the indoor firing range for the better part of the morning, trying to concentrate on the target while the rain lashed at the building. Bored, he trudged into the recreation room, considering the possibility of watching some television.

He flung himself onto the worn couch, and turned the old television on, which flickered to life with a static pop. A cartoon played across it, colorful pictures flashing behind the glass screen. An assortment of grinning, talking monkeys were chatting to a little girl with jet-black shoulder length hair and an annoyingly enthusiastic voice. Ghost glanced up from the TV as a loud bang echoed down the corridor outside the room, followed by the sounds of running footsteps.

Ghost sighed and turned his attention back to the annoying little girl who squealed, “Do you know where the banana tree is?” to the audience.

“Up your arse?” offered Ghost as he picked up the remote to change channels. At that moment Meat and Royce charged through the door, their hair ruffled and eyes wildly darting around the room. Upon seeing only Ghost, they proceeded to hide behind some hideous orange curtains.

“Who’d you prank this time?” asked Ghost disinterestedly scanning through the channels, hardly taking his eyes off the screen.

Meat popped his head out from the curtains, looking fearful. “We tried to get Roach with a bucket of water.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at this and turned to face the two partially hidden men. “So why were you looking so ruffled when you ran through the door? Roach is too nice to kill either you.”

“Well, uhhh. We didn’t manage to get Roach,” muttered Royce distractedly, scratching his head as he peered out the widow. “We accidently hit someone else.”

“WE HIT MACTAVISH!” wailed Meat, collapsing to the floor in a distraught heap.

Ghost eyed the two to make sure they were being serious before he roared with laughing.

“It’s not funny!” snapped Royce. “Roach might not kill us but the Captain will!”

 “I know! It’s great!” giggled Ghost. “And it bloody well serves you right! I haven’t forgotten when you slipped a scorpion into my bed!”

 Royce looked affronted. “How were we supposed to know it was poisonous? I don’t work for national bloody geographic!”

 Ghost rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the TV, which was replaying a football match, which had finished days ago. With a sigh, Ghost turned the TV off, reminded once again of how much daytime television sucked. He stood up and stretched his back which cracked satisfyingly.

“You wont tell MacTavish we’re here will you?” asked Meat, fearfully staring at Ghost.

“Well you’re going to have to face him at some stage,” yawned Ghost, striding over to the door. “Might as well be now aye?”

“Do you want a spider in your bed sir?” asked Royce mildly.

“You shouldn’t make idol threats Royce,” warned Ghost.

 “Who says I’m kidding?”

 Ghost gave them both a Christmas-angel smile before opening the door. “Well you won’t be alive to do it will you?”

The door closed with a click leaving both men to stare at it, dumbstruck.

“Bollocks,” muttered Royce, unlatching the window and opening it up, admitting a cold, wet breeze. “Comon Meat, before he comes back with MacTavish.” Quick as a flash, the two men climbed out of the window, closing it behind them and took off at a run across the muddy road, stumbling in the downpour.

* * *

 

 

John MacTavish’s eyes flashed dangerously, as he stormed through the base searching for Meat and Royce. Those two were as good as dead and they knew it. They generally didn’t hide from their victims, usually staying to laugh and savor the moment of triumph. He stopped dead when he spotted the Simon striding his way, a grin on his face.

 “Something tickled your fancy Ghost?” growled the scot, running a hand through his sopping wet hair.

 “Not at all MacTavish. Have a good shower?” he grinned, walking past the Captain.

 MacTavish eyed him suspiciously. “You seen Meat and Royce?”

 “Who?” asked Ghost innocently, turning back to face the CO.

 “Don’t play games Ghost. I’m not in the mood.”

 Ghost shook his head. “Sorry sir I can’t help you, haven’t seen them since breakfast” he lied, his face blank.

 John scowled at him. He was sure he knew where the two were, but couldn’t prove it. Besides, Ghost didn’t respond well to intimidation. “You be sure to tell me if you spot them Simon.”

 “Yes sir!” chimed Ghost, giving him a mocking salute, and marching off.

 MacTavish rolled his eyes and continued his search of the building.

* * *

Ghost slammed the door to his room shut and leaned up against the wood with a sigh before striding quickly over to the rain-splattered window and opening it up. Royce and Meat were huddled underneath an abandoned truck across the dirt road, soaked with mud and rain.

“Oi! You two! Come here!” hissed Ghost. They looked up alarmed and crawled out from under the vehicle. Cautiously, they approached Ghost’s window, eyes searching the haze for the bulking from of the Captain. 

“Gloating?” asked Royce bitterly, scowling, his teeth chattering.

 Ghost raised an eyebrow at this. “I was going to invite you inside actually. Thought you looked pretty damned miserable out there.”

 “You sold us out to MacTavish! We don’t need your help!” hissed Meat, glaring at the lieutenant.

 “Did you honestly think John wouldn’t search the rec room? Besides, I told him I hadn’t seen you, so I didn’t sell you out.”

 The two looked unconvinced, shivering uncontrollably.

 “Look are you two going to get in here or do I have to drag you in before you get full blown hypothermia?” snapped Ghost.

 They climbed grudgingly through the window, trailing mud and water across the carpet. Ghost surveyed them for a moment; their clothes were dripping wet, hair plastered to their faces, which were pink from the cold.

“Alright. Get in the shower, warm your selves up then get into bed you two. I’ll make you both tea,” said Ghost, walking towards the door. He glanced back at Meat and Royce, who hadn’t moved, teeth chattering loudly.

 “That was an order you two. Get to it,” sighed Ghost, wandering towards the kitchen to make some hot tea.

* * *

 

A while later, Ghost knocked on Royce’s bedroom door, a steaming mug grasped in his hand.

 “C’min” muttered Royce, admitting Ghost into his room.

 “There you are,” murmured Ghost, setting the cup down beside the bed.

 “Why are you doing this?” asked Royce suddenly. “I thought you were going to get MacTavish.”

 Ghost sighed, leaning up against the door of the bedroom, surveying the man. His reddish brown hair was towel dried, making it stand up in all sorts of odd directions. He wasn’t much younger than Ghost, but he was certainly far more innocent as far as warfare was concerned. While Ghost had joined the military fresh out of high school, Royce had been halfway through his university degree when he'd decided to join up.

 “I don’t hand over my mates to angry CO’s,” said Ghost simply.

 Royce grinned. “Thanks man. I promise I won’t ever prank you again!”

 “You better not. Get some sleep. I’m betting you guys got a mild case of hypothermia, with your ridiculous stunt,” chuckled Ghost, letting himself out of the room. They didn’t need to know that he had laced both Meat and Royce's mugs with laxative.


End file.
